I Only Came
by Karin-sama
Summary: Ever wondered what would have happened if a guilt-stricken Quatre met Catherine after Trowa's disappearance? Read this fic to find out!


  
I Only Came  
by: Karin-sama  
shinigamis_wings@hotmail.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters, lines, situations, anything else you might catch that is familiar does not belong to me, has never belonged to me, and will never belong to me. As sad as that is, it is a cold fact that we all must realize sometime in our lives, or else pay a lot of money in lawsuits. The poem (in italics) used for the basis of this fic is of my own creation, however, and I reserve all rights to and for its use and republication. Arigato!  
  
Summary: Rising to the challenge of Star Lioness for this remarkable piece of event that I'd never before considered, I decided to make up a little poem and wonder what would have happened if good, old Quatre had wandered into Catherine after he had "killed" Trowa. It takes place around episode twenty-five or so. . but I don't have Quatre go with Heero as originally stated in the series. So everything until episode twenty-five is according to the series, everything else is up for grabs.  
  
  
  
"Tears among the starlight, ashes on the wind."  
  
When it was all over, I never really believed it had actually happened. I didn't think myself capable. I didn't think it would turn out that way. I was too trusting of the system. Too trusting in my own strength. I should have known better! I didn't want to do that; I know I didn't. Why would I want to kill one of my only friends? No, not him, never him. I didn't wish a fate like that on him. Him who was my rescuer, who had taught me so much in so few words. No, it couldn't have happened. It wasn't me who did that. I couldn't have; I wouldn't! Yet the shrapnel of the explosion still glittered as it floated into infinite space, no matter how many times I closed and reopened my eyes. There it is, Quatre. There's your proof. No, I wouldn't! Your beam canon is still hot and smoking. I did it? There's the Mercreus, intact, but Heero's not moving. It was me? Trowa's gone, no body to even bury. I killed Trowa? No, Heero had killed Trowa. . .hadn't he? Wait. My fault? It was my fault? No! The shrapnel blurred and the stars grew fuzzy. My fault. Trowa's death was my fault. My hands tore at the cords connecting me to the new Gundam. I had to get away from it. It was what had made me do such a terrible thing. It was me! It's my fault because I'm weak. I'm weak and Trowa's dead. Even Trowa's strength was no match for the madness of the Gundam. Excuses, and bad ones! I leaped out of the cockpit, choking on nothing and wondering why I hurt so much. I gave it one look over my shoulder, wincing with guilt. Wing Zero. That suit of Trowa's would never have matched it for power. I'd started with the intent of destroying the colonies, why not, the entire world had gone crazy! Why not me with it? But it shouldn't have ended like that. Trowa wasn't crazy; Trowa was right about everything. I should have listened to Trowa. I should have been more like Trowa. Everyone, everywhere should be more like Trowa. I shook my head, thoughts like that weren't helping anyone, and they were bringing me back to the mind waves of the Wing Zero. It was a machine I most definitely did not want to enter again. Never again. Even as I looked at it chills shivered through me as I remembered how it had taken my reason. How effortlessly it had controlled my entire being. A snap of a control and it seeped all of my grief and confusion and frustration into a large mass that made me violent. Me! The boy who begs surrender of everyone to save himself from having to kill. Me! The boy who feels the pain of fellow soldiers as they die around him. A few hours in that cockpit had turned me into something else, and Trowa had paid for it.   
  
A groan brought me from my whirlwind of grief and questions that the Zero System had caused. It was then that I fully remembered Heero, sprawled on the hanger floor near the ruin of the Mercreus. It had been him that I was trying to kill when Trowa jumped in the way. Trowa had saved him, and by saving him had, in turn, saved me. I knelt beside him, lifting him gently into a reclining position, feeling the ache of his body all through my own self. Heero's hurt was familiar to me. I had felt it before, though when it combined with my own like this, it was almost unbearable. I wanted to drop him, leave him there, alone. I wanted to follow Trowa to somewhere peaceful. But I couldn't do that. I couldn't. . .not with such a sin on my head.   
  
"Gently, Heero," I murmured in a soft voice, harsh with tears. "We're going somewhere safe." But not in that. The Wing Zero was staying here, in the enemy base, and I didn't even care. Let them have it. Madness for the mad. It made no difference to me. They can tear their souls apart with it for all I cared.   
  
"Trowa?" Heero asked, stronger than I thought his physical condition would have allowed. "Is it over?" Tears stung my eyes again, and my muscles tightened involuntarily. Oh, it's over. It's all over. And I'm finished with everything. Let the colonies be dominated. Let OZ take over. Let the whole universe turn on each other, and let everyone die in a mass grave of dictated reason. I don't care! "Quatre." There was no surprise in his voice, no hesitation, no question. It was just a name, an analyzation of the situation. He was calm. Why couldn't I be calm? Why did I hurt so much? Why was I so weak! If my trembling hurt Heero, he didn't mention it. He held still, silent after realizing it was I who held him upright and not his former companion. Trowa. The soldier with no name and no grave. I tested my strength in lifting Heero, finding him easier to carry than I had thought. We had to get out of here. I couldn't take being in here. I could still feel the eyes of the Wing Zero burning into my shoulderblades, pulsing liquid lightning through me everytime I thought of it. It had made me a murderer. It had made me kill, and no matter how many times I shook my head that would still be there. It had happened. It was me. The stars were fuzzy with unshed tears all the way to the Sank Kingdom.   
  
"Atonement must be made for such a grievous sin."  
  
To make up for what I had done, I threw myself into the heart numbing task of caring for Heero. When he was asleep I read to him. When he was awake I talked with him and fed him, and anything else he needed. I had to atone for this atrocity. On a given moment it would clutch me in a breath taking squeeze, reminding me of the horror of that day and the murder I had done. Heero noticed, of course, for nothing escapes the realization of Heero's sharp eyes and analytical senses. He allowed me to continue to lose myself in him for as long as he was able. But Heero never liked being cared for, never enjoyed depending on other people. He was the one in control, always, and to let me supersede him in his role was not what he wanted to do. Yet he did. For three long days he rested in bed, watching me as I tried to lose myself. He never said anything, just watched me, determining how best to proceed with me in my grief. He did spare me the "he died as a good soldier" speech. I don't think I could have handled that. I didn't want to hear how good of a soldier he was. I knew that already. He was a great soldier, who knew the importance of life and war and survival. He was a spectacular human being. He was every positive adjective ever created rolled into one. I knew all this, and hearing it again while knowing that I had been responsible for taking such a person from this world, where he could have done so much good, would have been traumatic in the top most form of the word. So Heero kept silent and still for three days, watching and waiting.  
  
He didn't speak until the morning of the fourth day, as I was opening the bedroom window to allow the breeze of earth to float the curtains around. It was as I turned upon completion of this routine activity that he began to get out of bed. I started towards him, intent on persuading him back into it. I didn't think I was ready to stop playing nursemaid, even if he had been for a while. He held up his hand, commanding me to remain where I was. He stood, strong and perfectly able to begin his mission again, while I pulled into myself with the revelation that I would have to continue now too. I had nothing left to keep me from returning to the war, and yet nothing left that I wanted to fight for. I had meant what I said about being finished with it all, only now I didn't have a reason to stay away.   
  
"I cannot wait for you," Heero told me gently as he stretched his perfect body. I nodded, not knowing what I would do now. I had lost all of my motivation. My sense of purpose had been ripped from me by the power of Zero. Trowa's death had left me with a void in my life so dark that I felt that nothing would keep me from falling should I attempt to leave the protection of the Sank Kingdom's walls. "I know you're not ready, but I cannot wait for you." Of course not. He wasn't feeling what I was, and yet I was sure he understood somehow. Heero always understood everything. I watched the sunlight spin shadows of brightness on the wood floor, blinding myself with it in hopes that tears would not fall from sightless eyes. Heero's hand squeezed my shoulder, making me have to bite my lip. Not in front of Heero. I'm not going to cry.   
  
"I don't know what to do, Heero. I'm not strong like you." Indeed the only thing keeping me standing was his hand on my shoulder. What could I do? I couldn't bring him back. I was powerless! How can someone repent for murder?  
  
"Trowa left behind someone," Heero's voice was heard from far away. "A girl named Catherine." Yes, I remembered her. Trowa had spoken of her once, when I had asked him his reason for fighting. To protect innocents like Catherine, he replied. She had meant something to him. She was special. I had taken them from each other. I had ruined whatever friendship they might have shared. "I think you should tell her what happened." What? Tell the most important person in Trowa's life that I had killed him? I shook my head. Never, I could never do that. What could I possibly say to her? She would hate me. I hated me. To know he had died was one thing, but to hear it from the person who had killed him was something else entirely.   
  
"I can't, Heero."  
  
"You made a mistake, and you cannot fix it. But you can ask for forgiveness from the only person in space who can give it to you. Then you can leave it behind you, and come back to fight."  
  
"I'm never fighting again!" I felt Heero smile more than saw it as I was still watching the floor. "What good is it doing, Heero?" I had to know why he thought my vow was amusing. "The colonies don't even care to be independent anymore. They can't see the manipulation right in front of them. They're blind to it."  
  
"That's why they need us. I'll be there, when you're ready." He turned to leave me, ready to go on with his life. Never questioning if he were right or wrong, never hesitating in what he thought he needed to do. If only I could do that, but I had too much doubt and too much guilt. Heero was right, of course. Catherine was my last hope of ever redeeming myself for what I had done. Confess to her, and allow her to do with me what she thought best. It was the uncowardly way to proceed, and it would give me something to do as I regained my courage for what Heero had proposed. The door closed behind him and I looked out the window. Yes, it was all there was left to me now. I would find my forgiveness in Catherine.  
  
"Though I've never seen you."  
  
With Heero's help I left the Sank Kingdom's peace and returned to the darkness of space, following a trail of peanut shells and straw. Trowa's circus was well known, he had made it that way, so if ever I asked a colony for a "circus" they knew exactly which one I was looking for. This was both a relief and a hindrance to me. Since it was so famous I was able to find it easily, though it was a half hearted search. The discovery of its showing place was faster than I expected, and I found myself with an evening performance ticket in my hand before I was ready. Every time my thoughts returned to why I was doing this, the same question paralyzed me. What could I possibly say to her? How could I begin to apologize? I would stand, unable to move, shaking because of that question, no matter where I was when I thought of it. It had happened when I boarded the space shuttle. It had happened again when I found the circus. That's why I was staring numbly at the ticket trembling in my fingers. The audience filed into the tent all around me, a flowing flood of eager excitement. They weren't here for my reason. They were people Trowa fought to protect. There it was again. My hands threatened to drop the piece of paper that would permit me to see exactly who I had come to see, but hadn't really wanted to meet.  
  
"A ticket, a tasket, just put it in my basket, and allow me then to welcome you to the greatest show from earth!" The young woman's voice sang very near, and a green basket was thrust under my hand. Cloudy blue eyes blinked up at me from beyond the rim. She had crouched before me, lifting up the basket for me to drop my ticket into. She smiled playfully, enjoying the excitement before the show. I gave her a half smile and followed her orders. Upon dropping my ticket, she winked coquettishly and stood to grab my arm, escorting me into the tent and pulling me away from my self induced reverie. She smiled and half skipped as she all but dragged me toward the warm darkness of the big top. As we went she kept singing her ticket tasket song, holding the basket out for any outside to deposit their tickets. She gained herself many smiles, and I gained myself several strange looks. Well, what were they supposed to think? I wasn't in costume, but I was on the arm of this glittery performer. It looked odd of course, but I decided that she was as close as I would come to talking to anyone without breaking some kind of security so I may as well take advantage of it while I was still able to speak.  
  
"Excuse me, miss," I jumped in before she started her song once more. I stopped just before we had entered the canvas, holding her arm to keep her next to me. From what I had observed of her jubilance I wouldn't put it past her to skip on ahead without ever realizing she didn't have me by her anymore. "Maybe you could help me find someone?" She dropped her smile, changing at once from performer to person.   
  
"If I can," she nodded, waiting for me to continue. Well, I'd started, so I had to finish now. There was no backing away. No way I could face Heero again if I didn't go on with this. No way I could face myself again when it came right down to it. I took a deep breath, breaking eye contact.  
  
"I need to talk to Catherine. She's one of your performers, Trowa's partner." Her blue eyes widened at the mention of Trowa's name, as well they should. I didn't know if her recognition of the names made me feel better or worse. She folded her arms, all at once becoming skeptical of me, checking me over to determine what kind of a person I was.  
  
"What do you want with Catherine?" My hands found their way into my pockets. I didn't want to tell this girl. I didn't want to tell Catherine. I had almost wished that she wasn't here. That I had found the wrong circus, or that she had left it. I wished that I could drop off the face of existence. Something tightened in my throat, and the finale music was playing loudly before I could make myself answer her.  
  
"I have some. . .news to tell her." I was going to say bad news, but I couldn't make myself say it. The last thing I wanted was to break down in front of this stranger. I was a Gundam pilot! None of the other pilots ever cried. . .why was it only me who ever felt that I would collapse into sobbing at any given moment. Why was I so weak?   
  
"Come with me," she took my arm again and led me into the tent, right to a vacant seat in the front row. Her entire expression had changed. She knew that my being there wasn't good, she could tell. "Sit here. I have to go, but I'll come back when the show is over. You can tell me what you need to then." I obediently followed her instruction while she hesitated a moment to give me a last look, trying to see if she should remember me from somewhere. "Um, enjoy the show." Then she dashed off, replacing the fiery smile as she leaped onto a beautiful bay gelding to begin. It was only then that I finally realized that the little ticket girl was Catherine herself. It made me start shaking again. I had found her, she was going to talk to me after the show. I only had a short time to figure out exactly what I was going to say to her, and what I was going to do if she started to cry. I was sure she would, and then I would, and it wouldn't be good for either of us.   
  
"And you've never heard of me."  
  
I didn't see much of the show. I was too distracted in rehearsing what always seemed to be such harsh and cold words. I didn't know what I was to expect. It was a harsh and cold fact. It was a harsh and cold murder. There were no gentle words for something so terrible. If Heero were in my place. . .no, he was too cold too. Guess there was no one who could help me here except myself. It had been my fault, this would be all up to me.   
  
I did see Catherine, and she was fantastic. If she were anxious over what I had to say, she certainly didn't let it show in her performance smile. Her eyes glittered as brightly as the sequins in her costume as she twisted and flipped through the trapeze. Oh Trowa, she is beautiful. I can't believe I am going to destroy her ideas of reality in a short while. How can I do that? Why am I here? What on earth am I doing here waiting to confess a murder to Trowa's partner? She doesn't deserve that. Why had Heero sent me here? I can only imagine what the person next to me was thinking. My private torments must have been distracting, but he left me completely alone. I didn't even notice the last parade. If I had noticed I would have gotten up quickly and left. I had decided somewhere between the flame jugglers and the cartwheeling dogs that I just couldn't go through with this. I was going to leave, but Catherine was faster than my resolve. She had darted through the departing audience to my side with all the agility of the acrobat she was. Our amount of anxiety during the show must have been equal. She wanted to know what I had to tell her, and I was nervous about how I was going to tell it.   
  
She took my arm, pulling me once again, taking me away from the hot, lighted tent to the cool moonlight outside. Once there she kept her hand on me, and she was shaking almost as badly as I thought I was.   
  
"So why did Trowa send you to me?" She finally broke the silence with a slightly hesitant voice. "Are you one of . . .you know." I nodded. Being a Gundam pilot had always been secretive, but now that the colonies weren't supporting us anymore, it was even more so. I took a deep breath, knowing there was no way I could soften this. No way I could make it any easier for either of us.   
  
"He's not coming back is he?" I choked, stopping as her words hit me. Her breathing came harsh and quick, and I imagined her covering her face with her hands. I didn't bother to open my eyes to see. I knew what was happening, and I hadn't said a word yet. "What happened?" What could I say? Trowa, how can I explain. You knew her so much better than I do.  
  
"Wing Zero. I was not in control." Were those really my words? All that consideration of a method to deal the blow gently, and this was all I could say? Shoving the blame quickly onto the Gundam to save myself from guilt. It wasn't me, I couldn't have. It was the Wing Zero. It was terrible.   
  
"You!?" There is not a word to describe that tone of voice. Hurt and sad and incredulous and a few other emotions that have no name to begin with because they are too deep to understand. "What have you done to my Trowa?" I don't know how I looked at her, at her shining blue eyes. Time to do what I came here to do.   
  
"I owe you more than words of the most sincere apology."  
  
"It was the cockpit system," I was not talking to her, I was giving excuses to myself. I couldn't even look up at her, my eyes focused intently on the trampled grass at my feet. I couldn't look up; I didn't want to look up. My voice continued even though I didn't know what I was really talking about anymore. "It does things that no other system has been able to do. It takes control of the pilot, makes him unable to think or reason beyond the cockpit --"  
  
"Shut up! I don't care about any of that!" It made me start to hear the anger of her voice. I cared about that. It was my excuse, it was the only thing keeping me alive. Reasoning it away as the Zero system was the only escape for me. Without that frail logic I would never have made it this far. To have it ripped away from me was crippling. I lost whatever I had been going to say, my knees gave way from under me, and I broke. I knew I would, but not this soon. "How could you?" She collapsed beside me, curling double and pounding a fist on the ground. I didn't know if it was because of sorrow or anger at me, or something else entirely. There was no way to know, and no way to explain.  
  
"I'm sorry," I sobbed, my arms shaking terribly even as they held me a little off the ground. "I know it doesn't matter, and it doesn't even start to help you, but I'm really very sorry."  
  
"Do you have any idea what he meant to me?" I could barely understand her as we were both crying so hard.  
  
"Yes," I curled into myself, realizing exactly what I had done again with renewed clarity. "He was my friend too." She shifted closer to me, attempting to find comfort from any human being, even the one who had killed the very person she was crying for.   
  
"Tell me about him?"   
  
"Your eyes among the starlight dance the song of the calliope."  
  
I was confused. I expected more than that. She had been so upset a few seconds ago when I had tried to explain the function of the Zero System. What had changed? Perhaps seeing me break? Seeing me feel sorrow for the loss of a friend that she shared? Of course Zero meant nothing to her. She hated the war as much as anyone else. She didn't care about technology. She didn't care about the Gundams. She cared about Trowa.   
  
"You knew him, didn't you?" She was hopeful, but why? "You were with him." Her fingernails tore into my arms as she clung to me. "He never told me anything, please, what was he like?" What? Trowa was secretive with her too? He talked about her more than he talked about anything. I know how much she must have meant to him, but he hadn't opened up to her. "I never learned anything about him." She was so close I could smell her shampoo, sobbing harder than I was. Hesitantly, I pulled her against me to comfort her, and by comforting her I could help myself. It was Heero all over again. I had to do something for her to lose myself from reality.   
  
"I'm sorry," that was all I could say, even though I wanted to say something else. "I'm so sorry. I know I didn't want to do that. It was the system. . .the system took control."  
  
"I told you I didn't want to hear that," she whispered against my chest. "You can keep that nonsense to yourself, use it however you like, but never breathe another word of it to me again. You didn't kill him, it killed him, and that's all I ever need to know. He wouldn't blame you for anything, it wasn't his way, so I won't blame you for anything." The way she spoke made me wonder if she knew him better than I did after all. She might have, and she had forgiven me. She had forgiven me the sin I wouldn't forgive myself. I should have felt better, justified, something, but forgiven or not I had still done it. I had still killed an ally, a friend, and one of the few good human beings of the world.   
  
"He was nuts, I always told him so," she was still crying, but I found that I had stopped. There were no tears left, even when I thought that once I started I would cry for an eternity. I waited for her to say that he was too good for this world. He was, of course, and it seemed the next thing in line of the things people say when they lose someone close. Something they say to trick themselves into thinking that it was better that he was gone. That he didn't belong here. That we didn't deserve him after all. He was certainly better than us, but that's why we did deserve him. We needed him to continue to teach us. Needed him to remind us why we were fighting, what we were fighting for, why we got up each morning even.   
  
"He saved you, didn't he? That's what he would do. He wouldn't give his life unless he was saving someone. It was all he lived for. He was always doing something nice for someone else. He was so self-less. He didn't care about his own life so long as he was helping someone else. You know, genuinely good." She was rambling in her sorrow, giving herself something to say to forget that she was feeling. It was a defensive reaction. I'd seen it happen. Duo did it often. A compulsive chattering to drive away emotion, reason everything down to convince yourself that you were not feeling. I drove it away with silent logic and the attempt of comforting others, she did it with speech. No matter the method, we were both hurting, and there was something comforting in that itself.   
  
"He's really dead, for sure? He was just here, we did our last show only a little while ago. He was just here, I just saw him." There were more murmurings, but I could not understand a word of them. She continued to talk, but it was suppressed by sobs that shook her entire body in violent convulsions. I held her tightly, but it did little to calm or still her. "Trowa." Then she went completely limp against me, overcome entirely with a grief that had surpassed mine. Another defense of the body to compete against intense physical or emotional pain, the loss of consciousness. I held her close, still crying but not in the uncontrolled sobbing of before. This was silent now. Everything was quiet all around, except for the haunting melody of the cheerful calliope somewhere on the circus grounds. A tune to follow the audience as a reminder of the wonders they had seen that night, to give them a smile in their dreams.   
  
"I see why you meant so much to him,  
and it makes it that much harder for me."  
  
With the help of one of the circus hands I was directed to Catherine's trailer. He gave her a concerned look, and me a skeptical one, as if he didn't trust me. I didn't explain to him all that had happened, I didn't trust myself that much, but I got him to tell me where she lived on the grounds. It was a small trailer, nothing fancy, but none of them were. The only way I knew it was definitely hers was the clown mask painted on the side. It was Trowa's clown mask.  
  
I allowed myself in, easily carrying her still unconscious form inside. She was so light, an acrobat and dancer. Trowa had probably lifted her many times in a performance, shifting her weight comfortably as they followed their routines. They were a team, and I had split them up forever. Destroyed them, their name, and their lives.   
  
She moaned softly as I lay her on the bed, murmuring his name again. I covered her with blankets in an attempt to stop her convulsive shaking. It was shock and a bit of denial that had done this to her, and I couldn't blame her for it. I was in the same state, though not as badly. I knew there was no way I would be able to sleep in her trailer so I didn't bother to try. Instead I looked around, trying to determine what kind of girl she was. She must be something special for Trowa to think so highly of her.  
  
The pictures told me much. The brightness in her eyes, the sweetness of her smile, the beauty of her motion and her grace all bore witness to her character. She was gentle, but strong. She was kind, yet fiery. She carried all of Trowa's good points, only with a few more outgoing attributes. She was something special all right. I watched her sleep, wishing we could have met in any other way except this one.   
  
The night lasted longer than I thought possible. As it slowly crept away, I paced, looked at Catherine, paced again, raging within my own head the mistake I had made, both the mistake of trusting the Zero and for coming here to ask for forgiveness. She had given it to me, but there was no sense of completion. The only thing I had accomplished by coming was enhancing her sorrow and making my own guilt more prominent in my soul. She deserved more than this. She was worth more than this. I knew that already and I barely knew her at all. It was a botched mission all around. And from all that night of thinking, I decided to leave before she woke up. Let her forget about me as quickly as she could, forget about Trowa as quickly as she could, forget about everything and continue in the life that would hopefully be better without the heartache of losing loved ones to the harsh realities of war. In the morning she may even be able to forget I was ever there at all.   
  
"That's all I came to tell you.  
That's all I can really say."  
  
The morning did not dawn as so many other mornings have in the past. It remained dark, foggy, and wretched to match the emotions of the guilt stricken soldier that was still awake to face it. There was no sun to speak of, only depressing clouds that mourned away the morning. It made me sad and sick to see it. I needed color, I needed sound, I needed purpose to make me leave. Purpose to go back to Heero and begin again what I never thought I would lose the desire of. Resolve is weak on mornings such as this one, but there was a worse look than the clouds waiting for me if I stayed long enough to see Catherine's face again. I had done what I came here to do, and that meant there was no reason for me to stay. It had not done what I had hoped it would, but nonetheless it was finished and there was no way to undo anything anymore. Best to get away from it, pretend it hadn't happened, go on.  
  
I nodded to myself, firm in this logic that I should leave. I whispered another apology to the still sleeping Catherine, and closed the trailer door as carefully and quietly as I could so she would not know I had left. The clown mask on the side watched me come down the steps with an oddly accusing expression. Where are you going? What a coward! You come to apologize and then leave with the intent to deny what you've done. Can't face it in a girl's eyes can you? There's no malice on her part, and that is what makes you afraid. You wanted her to scream, to give you a reason to explain yourself so you won't feel guilty anymore. She didn't do that, and so you'll have to find some other release. Using her to make yourself feel better is no way for a soldier to behave. You can't forgive yourself, so her mercy means nothing to you.   
  
I pulled the collar of my coat higher to break my eyes away from the painted mask. It wasn't like that. I could never do that. Her mercy did mean something, but why would I stay here when seeing me would cause her to remember things that no one wants to keep. No, I was leaving. Let her have a life without soldiers or Gundams or colony rebellion. Let her have her bright lights and smiles and sequins.   
  
"Where are you going?" For a brief second I thought my mind was arguing with me again, but this time the voice was not in my head, but at the door where Catherine stood, an anxious expression on her melancholy features. I tugged at my coat again, wondering indeed where I was going. I didn't want to stay, and I didn't want to leave. I had no where to be and no time to be there in. In the end I just looked at her helplessly and shrugged.  
  
"Away," was the best answer I could give. Just away. Away from space and stars and painted masks on trailer doors that make me think of things I'd rather not. Away from truth so I could give myself excuses. And most importantly, away from you because your eyes are worse than Heero's when it comes to unease.   
  
"Without telling me your name?" What difference did my name make? What difference did I make? Let me stay a stranger, Catherine. It's better that way, you know. Nameless people are easier to forget, and I so very much wanted to be forgotten.   
  
"Quatre." What had made me answer, I'll never know. Perhaps my own deep desire to remain here where the war was distant and rumored. She repeated it, her fingers playing absently with the door handle as she looked away. I nodded and turned away from her. Let me go, I begged my heart. Let me get away from here. I don't want this, I really don't. I want to be alone, where I can't hurt anyone and where no one can hurt me. Alone to reason away my past because it is much too terrible to think about, and ineffably painful to see in her ever again. That's it, I'm leaving.  
  
"But the look in your eyes tells me that you want me to stay."  
  
"Quatre!" By faith, but she was quick. The door hadn't even swung closed before she was down the steps and beside me. Pleading hands held my arm, and pleading eyes held me still. I wanted to leave so I could forget, and she wanted me to stay so she would always remember. How odd we were. "At least have some breakfast before you go?" Why was she doing this? My being there had to be as painful to her as it was to me. What sort of person was she that she enjoyed it? Yet her look made me force a smile and give in to her request. But after breakfast, I was leaving. She was too much for me.   
  
"I never could understand him," she was saying as she poured me a dark cup of coffee. No need to ask who she was talking about. Her voice was so clear, all the tears vanished from it. "No matter how much I wanted to keep him safe, I knew I'd never be able to. He cared too much."  
  
"He wanted to protect you," I murmured as I took a sip, allowing the liquid to burn my throat. She smiled sadly.   
  
"That's what soldiers do, real soldiers anyway." I didn't know what to make of that comment, so didn't say anything. "What are you protecting?" I almost choked at the question. What was I protecting? At first I was protecting the people I loved, but who were they? Who were they? Hadn't they left me alone? Hadn't they betrayed me in the end? I loved them and they didn't care. I'd loved Trowa and I'd killed him. My loves were lost and thus my reason. "What makes you fight?" She reworded the question as she sat down across from me, her eyes finding their way deep to question it into the most sequestered parts of my being.   
  
"I don't have an answer for that anymore," I spoke into my cup. A dark and bitter liquid for a dark and bitter life. That's all that's left to you, Quatre. What's to fight for? What's to live for? It would have been better if I had been the loser. If only Trowa had lived. I would gladly have given my place for him. He could have returned to Catherine, and I would have returned to the nothing that had always been there, somewhere in the locked away part of my emotion.   
  
She reached across the table, taking my hand. I looked up briefly to see her sympathetic smile before burying my gaze in the blackness of my coffee. "Don't go back, then," she begged softly. The logic of that made me blink. Don't go back, how simple. "It's all so pointless. The killing, the fighting, the politics, nothing matters. I couldn't get him to understand that." I allowed myself a bitter smile. I knew what she was doing now. She wanted to keep me with her because it was away from the war. She could never keep Trowa from fighting, and it had caused his death. She wanted to save him, but now there was no chance of that, so she was going to try to save me instead. She wanted to take care of me the same way I wanted to take care of Heero. We had failed the one we loved, so we would find solace in saving each other. It was a lie to ourselves, but lies are sometimes less painful than truth in the long run. Why not? Because it wasn't right, that's why not. She couldn't replace him with me, no matter how she tried, and that's what she was doing, I knew that. I wasn't Trowa, and I was leaving. I stood, sending her into a panic. Her eyes took on an intense expression of fear, and she leaped up to block me from the door. With the rush of pent in sorrow she threw herself at me, clinging to me with a sad kind of desperation.  
  
"Please, don't go," she cried against my chest. "No more death, no more killing, I can't stand it!"  
  
"Catherine," I began to explain to her why I couldn't stay, why it was best that I leave her alone. There would be no healing if she continued to lie to herself this way. Odd that I didn't want her to deny the truth, but I wanted to leave so I could do that very thing.  
  
"No! There's no reason for you to fight, you said so yourself! He didn't save you just so you could get yourself killed." That gave me pause at the simple logic of it. Why had Trowa saved me? For what purpose? To restore the colonies to independence? To continue in his place? What did Trowa want from me? The only thing I knew for sure was that Catherine had spoken true. Trowa did not want me to die. "Not again. I am not sending another soldier to die, I can't. Please, Quatre, don't go." She repeated her pleadings, hugging me tightly to prevent me from taking my leave. Is this what you wanted me to do, Trowa? Did you give your life so I could care for the one you left behind? Why not do that yourself? Wouldn't you have been the better choice for this. You knew her.   
  
"He never told me anything." That's because he couldn't. It had nothing to do with you, it was himself that kept him reticent. I see, Trowa. You couldn't explain yourself to her, so you left that up to me. I nodded at this and enfolded Catherine in a protective embrace. Her crying grew quiet as she looked up at me.   
  
"I'll stay," I told her, pulling her close to me again and rocking her slightly. "He wouldn't want you to be alone."   
  
"Rain among the starlight, pouring down and in"  
  
It rained all that day, and for many days afterward, never with a sign of letting up. The circus had little business as no one wanted to be out in the downpour, yet they stayed where they were. It might have been better to move on, but the rain had made everyone slightly lazy. It had been a good season, thus far, and with the rain they had decided to take a little break. This gave Catherine and I plenty of time to get to know each other, and to talk about things. We talked about ourselves, and Trowa. Mostly about Trowa. We talked about his gentleness, his generousness, his kind and forgiving qualities that made up his being. We would smile with tears in our eyes, finding comfort in our mutual knowledge. Gradually our familiarity with each other increased as we were strengthened by our relationship. Trowa had brought us together. The rain had brought us together. Such strange and silent circumstances to begin what we would have.   
  
"I never meant to love you."  
  
I didn't mean for it to happen, ever! The accident, the confession, or to stay here to begin with. It was not my intention. It was her smile and her tears, her laughter and her grace. All of these things with the sense of security away from death she gave me made me want to stay with her for just one more day. Every night I swore I'd be gone in the morning, and every morning I'd be met with her friendly gaze. She wanted me to stay, even though I knew I shouldn't. It was horrible what was happening to me. Trowa wanted me to take care of her, this I knew. Yet my thoughts were treacherous to his memory, especially with a touch. I tried to stop what was happening, but the attempt was half hearted. I wanted this, though I knew it was wrong. How could I do such a thing to Trowa? Twice I had insulted his character now, and it was bound to get worse the longer I remained in the trailer.   
  
"Or take the place of him."  
  
Yet I stayed. I remained for her, I told myself, it was all for her. I would leave when she was ready to be alone. As the days went on, however, she became more dependent on me instead of the reverse. She would smile at me, talk with me, touch me. I was never allowed to even mention the war in her presence. She would command me not to think of it, that I would never return to it. I shouldn't. I had nothing to fight for and everything to keep me with her. Her reasoning kept me there. It was the excuse that Trowa wanted. It was my duty to take care of her. I owed it to her and I owed it to him. Yet there was something wrong with everything. I couldn't shake the guilt that had become a part of my every day life and grew worse with every thought of Catherine that trickled through my brain. What was I really doing here? Was it really Trowa that made me stay? Was it my fear of fighting? My fear of Heero? My fear of myself. What was it that made me remain in that trailer even when I knew it would end in sorrow for both of us. I asked these questions repeatedly, and never really came to any answers. I abandoned my quest for them with one look at Trowa's partner. I knew what was happening. I was falling in love with her personality and loving characteristics. I loved her. She had saved me from myself and from the war, and I was grateful to her for that. I wanted to take her, keep her, but something always held me back. Whenever I thought I was the closest was when she backed away. It had been her idea to save me, to keep me with her, and yet at times it seemed that she didn't want me there at all. It was Trowa that was doing this to us. His memory forbade us from what we both knew we wanted. I wanted her, but she belonged to him, and I couldn't take that away.   
  
"But while we're here together"  
  
"Will it never stop raining?" Catherine moaned as she wrapped herself in a shawl, glaring at the spattered windowpane. "We'll all be so lax in training it will be a wonder we get anyone to come to the show." I smiled from my place on the couch where a chessboard was spread between us. It was Trowa's chessboard. . .Trowa liked chess. It seemed he would always be between us, and I was beginning to hate him for that. If Trowa had never been then I could have Catherine to myself and not feel a bit of guilt for it. As it was, she was untouchable, no matter what my soul was telling me I was feeling.   
  
"It's your turn," I drew her attention back to the game. I wasn't really trying in this one, my mind was occupied with other matters. We had drawn it out all afternoon as we'd had nothing better to do. She perched on the sofa cushion, cross legged, chewing her lip as she studied the board. It made me want to hold her, my eyes followed all of her movements, drinking her in desperately since I was held back by guilt to ever touch her. I sometimes wondered if she knew what she did to me, if she knew what her motion did to me. Did she have any idea the torment I went through just by being close to her?   
  
"Check," she cautioned, turning her head to gaze out the window again. She'd been doing that all day, as if willing the rain to cease. Did she feel as trapped as I did? No, impossible, she wouldn't be feeling what I was. She was more pure than my thoughts right now. I watched her carefully, not bothering to move my king just yet. She jumped, squinting into the fog as if she had seen something that had frightened her.  
  
"Catherine," she shuddered as I spoke the name. "What is it?" There was a faint smile on her lips as she turned back to me. She shrugged, making the shawl fall about her shoulders.  
  
"If I knew that I would have told you a long time ago." She was so enchanting, even when I had no idea what she was talking about. I moved away from the couch, leaning over her to try to see what she had jumped at. She shivered, and shifted as if she would move away from me. I looked outside, seeing nothing but fog and puddles of collected rainy days.  
  
"I don't see anything," I confessed, glad that she had given me the excuse to get this close to her. In the beginning there were tears to be comforted, and thus we gained our proximity in embraces. Now there was no more crying and touches were casual and friendly, though not intimate as they had been. She pulled the shawl tightly around her.   
  
"And my feelings well up strong"  
  
"Anything the matter?" She was trembling now, and I wondered if I should return to my previous position on the couch. Perhaps I was invading her space a little. Days in the trailer had made us friends, and that was indeed dangerous, but I never thought that what entered my mind might also be in hers. I stood straight, backing away.  
  
"No," she started, grabbing my hand quickly. "There shouldn't be." Women, I decided, were odd, but that didn't change what I was feeling at the moment. I raised an eyebrow.  
  
"So what is it?"   
  
"What do you think of me, Quatre?" My heart twisted. Was this some sort of trick question? Should I tell her the truth? Or tell her what I thought she wanted to hear? What sort of answer did she want with such a question? I went behind her, taking her shoulders and leaning down close.  
  
"I think you are special, and that's why Trowa loved you." She twitched, bending down away from me at those words. Words which were, I finally figured out, not exactly the correct response. But what did she want?  
  
"It all goes back to him, doesn't it? Is that the reason you're staying here? Because it was what he wanted you to do?" So that was it. I understood. If she was afraid of that, then what did she feel for me? Perhaps our emotions were mirrored. "You don't have to, you know." Wait a minute. Wasn't she the one who wanted to save me? Wasn't she the one who had pleaded with me not to leave? Wasn't she the one who kept me away from the war? What was she thinking now saying that I didn't have to stay when it was herself that had pleaded so hard for me to do so?   
  
"That's not it," I explained, picking my words carefully so I wouldn't hurt her. How could I hurt her? I loved her, and yet loving her didn't make me any better at talking to her. Why did this have to be so difficult? "I'm here because I want to be. I'm away from the war; I'm with you. I thought you wanted me to stay, Catherine."  
  
"I did." Did? Not anymore? What had happened here? "I mean, I do. I mean, what do I mean, Quatre?"  
  
"You're scared of me?" Now where had that come from? Me? I seemed to be speaking a lot of things lately that I didn't realize I was saying. She pulled into herself and nodded miserably. I let her curl protectively, moving away from her behind the couch. I leaned on it, rocking slightly and wondering what to say next. Afraid of me. Afraid of me in the same way I was afraid of her? Were we both afraid of what we might do to Trowa's memory? "I'm scared of you too."   
  
"It's hard for me to remember  
why I thought loving you to be wrong."  
  
She blinked, raising her head from her knees. "You're scared? Why?" I ran frustrated fingers through my hair, scattering my bangs in all directions. It seemed to scatter my thoughts too.  
  
"Because I love you. Because I loved Trowa. Because Trowa loved you. Because I love what Trowa loved." I stopped myself, amazed. She was amazed too, staring at me as if she'd never seen me before in her life. "And it's all betrayal." I hung my head, waiting for what would come next. I had just brandished my feelings and now must suffer the consequences of opening my mouth. I should have learned by now that feelings don't count for much to other people, no matter how special that other person might be.  
  
"So you do love me?" The question was so soft and scared. It was endearing to me. All I could do was nod. "On your own, not because Trowa left me to your care?" Oh, so that was it. She was just as afraid of being hurt as I was. She thought I only was with her because of her demands and the demands of our lost loved one. Oh, but she was wrong. It wasn't Trowa that made me feel the way I did. Never. She was the only one that could make me feel anything.  
  
"It's just me," I told her, lifting my head to find her standing. "No one made me come, and no one made me love you except you." She smiled softly and sadly, and I opened my arms to her. She came willingly and slowly, tucking her head under my chin. I breathed deeply.  
  
"Do you think that this is what Trowa wanted?" I shrugged with my arms tightly around her. It might have been. Trowa had strange reasons for everything. It might have been just an accident, he might have had it planned out to the sentence. I would probably never know.   
  
"Is it what you want?" She remained silent, very silent, hesitant in her answer. It made a chill go through me. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? I was what she wanted? Didn't I mean as much to her as she meant to me? "Catherine?"  
  
"I honestly don't know what I want." I pulled back, holding her at arms length to study her face. Hold on. I had just exposed myself entirely to her. Didn't that count for something? Wasn't she supposed to confess her equal emotion and weren't we supposed to live happily ever after and so on? What did she mean she didn't know? Why was she still hesitant? Trowa was dead, gone, and nothing we could do to ourselves would bring him back to us. Granted it was a terrible tragedy, and it still grieved me to think that I was the one who had caused it. Yet, as it was done, did we need to punish ourselves for the rest of our lives because of it? She had given me her forgiveness once, and I had begun to forgive myself in getting close to her. And after all this she doesn't know?  
  
"Substitution," I didn't know what I meant the word as. Maybe a diagnosis, a question, I hadn't a clue. But I thought I understood. She was afraid that I was loving her because of Trowa. And she was afraid that she was loving me as a replacement for Trowa. But I wasn't Trowa. I would never be Trowa, and Trowa would never come back. "I'm not Trowa, Catherine."  
  
"I know that." But I was a soldier. She had protected me as a soldier, now she loved me as a soldier. As the soldier. The one she couldn't have before. I was losing this little game. Quickly. I pulled her in tightly again, begging a kiss with a brush of my lips against hers. It was the first time I had ever allowed myself to do this, even though I had imagined what it might be like for a long time.   
  
"I love you," I murmured as I kissed her cheeks and neck. "I love you, Catherine. I love you for you and I love you as me. No one else, just us. Weren't you the one who saved me? Weren't you the one that protected me? It was all you. Everything was you. Please, Catherine, don't tell me that you've forsaken me now."  
  
"But I'm so afraid," I could barely hear her despite being so close.  
  
"Go ahead, be afraid. I'm afraid. I'm terrified, but please, don't make me be alone after this." I kissed her lips again, received nothing in return, pulled back for a moment and tried again. Trowa why did you do this to me? Heero why did you do this to me? Catherine why are you doing this to me? Why can't I do anything for myself?  
  
Her fingers on my cheeks made me realize I was crying, and that she was crying too. She traced their path down to my chin, and then she moved behind my neck, hugging me close. "I love you," she finally breathed and returned my kiss at last. Yes, my heart screamed. That's how it is supposed to work. No guilt, no shame, just us. Just us as it should have been always. Thank you Catherine. Thank you Trowa. "I love you, Quatre." She giggled, trying to pull me closer than I was already. I didn't think it was possible.   
  
We were just realizing the extent of love in first kisses when a thundering bang pounded on the door of the trailer. Both of us jumped, pulling apart and staring at the source of the sound, daring its reason to intrude on such a personal moment.   
  
"Catherine!" Screamed a voice outside, above the roar of storming wind. "Catherine, come see this! Hurry!" She looked at me, fear in her eyes, before pulling her shawl tight and dashing out of the door.   
  
"Confusion among the starlight,"  
  
Outside the wind rushed over us, making me almost lose her in the night. What was going on? Why did it involve Catherine? What could be so important that it could tear us apart so quickly after we had realized what we felt? Everywhere I heard several voices shout out her name, drawing her towards a certain place. But for what? What was going on? On such a night, in such a place, for such a purpose? What purpose?   
  
"Catherine! Over here, Catherine!" Someone screamed and I switched my sprinting course to follow. She was so quick, I had easily lost her in the twisting turns of the dark and muddy circus grounds. The rain blurred my sight and the wind blurred my hearing, but eventually I came upon a crowd of people. Catherine had just come up to them as well, but she was on the other side of a large circle. I burst to the inside to see what was going on, just as she did the same on the opposite side of the human barricade. In a lightning flash I saw her eyes peering at me, deep with sorrow and love and fear, and in the center, directly between us, was a shadowed figure hunched over in the mud.   
  
"A tightrope walker in the rain."  
  
As the shadow moved several of the performers stepped back. No one went up to it, no one spoke to it, no one even tried to go to its aid. Why? What was wrong? What was this thing and what was it doing here? I was just about to step into the center and see what I could do for the poor wretch shivering in the rainy darkness all alone, but Catherine beat me to it.   
  
I was held completely still by the graceful, slow pace she set as she came up to the thing. As she drew near, it flinched away, curling down into itself quite pathetically. It might be hurt, or scared, or both. I wanted to go to her, but I held still, allowing her to confront this wild dark thing by herself. She knelt in the mud before it, taking its shoulders in her hands. I heard a sob cut through the wind, wondering if it belonged to me or her or someone else entirely. Whatever the thing was, it was human, but who could it be? What would bring someone here on such a night? Catherine smoothed away the muddy bangs that hung in the person's eyes, and they flashed green in the lightning. There was a scream, and I realized I had fallen to my knees in a puddle. Catherine hugged the tattered soldier close, rocking with sobs.   
  
"Trowa," her voice carried straight to me on the wind. "Oh, Trowa, it's you."  
  
"I guess I never had you,  
but I'll never look at you the same."  
  
I helped her bring him to his feet. I helped her get him into the trailer. I helped her get him cleaned up. I helped her do all these things, and yet I was doing them while completely numb. Trowa, the name would shoot through me like an electrical current. Trowa. Alive and here and alive. He was alive. I couldn't get over it. I stared at our forgotten chess game as she wrapped him in blankets. He was shivering dreadfully. She rubbed his shoulders, kissing him on the forehead and hands in her child-like delight at seeing him again.   
  
He allowed her near him, but flinched whenever he saw me. We learned very quickly that he did not remember his own name, let alone who we were. He didn't know how he'd gotten to the circus, or anything that had happened to him. But his body reacted to my presence, so I kept away. He wasn't well, and it would be better for him not to see me. I left him to Catherine. She dressed his wounds and warmed some broth which he couldn't eat. He was such a mess, but very much alive. Very well for someone who should have been dead. His eyes were wild and frightened and fevered, dancing about every which way.  
  
"Cathy," was the only word he could say, and that with difficulty. She smiled at him lovingly, encouraging him with soft words to just eat and not worry about anything until he was feeling better. He breathed with difficulty, coughing every now and again. He must have been traveling in this weather for quite a while, alone and friendless, without any knowledge of who he was or where he was going.   
  
"It's so cold," I heard him stutter from the other room. I flinched to hear him. What sort of friend was I? I had done this to him. It was all my fault. And then I had taken the girl he loved. Such betrayal. "I'm so cold."  
  
"I know," Catherine soothed and I pictured her holding him tight in an attempt to warm him. "Wandering around in the rain like that would give anyone a chill. Here, don't do that, just hold still. You're safe now, I've got you. There's nothing here, Trowa, you're sick. It's ok, I'll take care of you." I heard his shuddering coughs that cut me from the throat to my chest. I leaned against the doorframe, hiding my face in my hand. Poor Trowa. Such a life. Such a miserable, rotten life. His breathing grew quiet, and I decided that exhaustion and fever had sent him into sleep. Beyond my closed eyelids I saw the light go out, and felt Catherine standing beside me. She lay a gentle hand on my arm.  
  
"Isn't it wonderful?" She whispered in delight. "He's home." I forced a smile.   
  
"It's not that I'm not happy,  
Indeed I doubt there's anyone more glad."  
  
"I can't believe he made it," she went on, taking the rest of the broth to the small kitchen area. "He's alive! You didn't kill him. Everything is fine." No, it wasn't fine, but it should be. Why was I crying? Why did I hurt so much? I knew I was happy, of course I was happy. My best friend was alive! My sin was requited. He was back where he was supposed to be. Things were as they should have always been. So why was I crying? Why was I on my knees, hugging myself and crying?   
  
"Oh Quatre," she hurried to my side and threw her arms around me, comforting me the way I had once comforted her. "My Quatre. What's wrong?" I didn't know. I couldn't answer. My throat was too tight and my tears were too strong. He was back, he was ok, but she was lost. I knew that now. She still loved Trowa. No matter how much she had thought she loved me, it had all ended as soon he came back. I should be happy, yet I wasn't. Was I? I should be; I should be happy. I should be overjoyed. I should be smiling. I should be laughing. I should be praying. I should be grateful. I should be. . .I should be leaving.  
  
"Quatre, don't do this," she was crying now, sharing my misery when we should have been sharing joy. "Please, what's wrong? Aren't you glad he's back?"  
  
"I am," I commanded more to myself than to answer her. "I am." If I repeated it enough I could convince myself. Maybe. I was happy. I was! And yet, and yet I could not stop crying.  
  
"But I'll wonder what might have happened  
if there was a love we might have had."  
  
I woke up awhile later on the floor where I had collapsed. The wind had ceased its powerful blustering and all was quiet except for the gentle sounds of raindrops on the roof and the congested breathing of Trowa in the other room. I hesitantly pushed myself up, looking around to find Catherine, curled in her shawl on the couch. The chessboard was still there, but my king had been knocked over by the corner of her makeshift blanket. Indeed, it was all truth. She had knocked me over in the same way. Oh Trowa, I am glad you're alive. I love you too. I love you both. But if anyone deserves each other, its you. Never me. I should never have even tried. I should have remained faithful to you. I should have let it alone, left it unconfessed. No, that wasn't right. She was my life. She was my protection. She was everything. She had saved me. It hadn't been a mistake. I stood to move closer to her, kneeling at her side to look at her as she slept. Her lips were slightly parted, and her hair had fallen into one closed eye. She was beautiful. I had kissed those lips once. One moment of pure life to whatever substitution had been claiming itself to be so previously. We might have been. Indeed, we might have been.   
  
She moaned in her sleep, turning the other way. I pulled the shawl up around her shoulders and left her there, going to the doorway to peek in on Trowa. There was a candle on the bedside table, lighting his pale face in a dim glow. Seeing him sleeping there made me indeed very happy that he was not dead. He had come back to teach us more of what we should do. He was good, and true, and loving.   
  
"I did what you wanted, Trowa," I whispered to him. "I took care of her for you. I don't know what I'll do now, but I did what I could. I'm sorry for what I've done to you, and for what I've done to me. But we'll all be the stronger for this in the end."  
  
"Reunion in the starlight"  
  
Catherine's hand slipped into mine as she joined me in the doorway. She smiled kindly as she considered me. I wondered if I were going to cry again. She leaned her head against my arm, sighing deeply.  
  
"It's all right," I finally told her. "I understand."  
  
"I do love you, Quatre. That wasn't a lie."  
  
"I know."  
  
"What happens now?"   
  
"The very last of its kind."  
  
"Now?" I repeated, tightening my hold of her hand. It would be the last time I would ever touch her. "Now you help him get better and recover his memory. That's what happens now."  
  
"And you?" She was anxious, worried about me. She did love me, but she loved him more. That was not hard to believe. She had loved him first. She had always loved him, even though she loved me now too.   
  
"Me? I think I'll go back." She turned to face me, sorrow in her eyes.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I have something to fight for now." She shook her head.   
  
"I had thought him dead,  
and I had thought you mine"  
  
"Look at him, Catherine," I nodded my head to the sleeping Trowa. "He needs you, and the colonies need him. You can help him, and I can help the colonies."  
  
"But Quatre --"  
  
"He fought to protect you. I can fight to protect you both. I've done what I came here to do, and while its killing me to see you like this I'm glad that it happened." She took a deep breath. "We must always fight to protect the ones we love, and I don't know of anyone I love more than you and him. Let me do this for you."  
  
"I'll miss you." I smiled, knowing that I was going to leave her memory forever if I could. I wanted them to have each other. Let them be happy. If anyone should be happy in this world, it should be them. She had never been mine, no matter how much we said we loved each other. She would always be Trowa's.   
  
"Yet I'll leave you to him now,  
with him as you always should be."  
  
He cried out in his sleep, reliving some type of hell that I had caused him. It hurt me to hear it, and her too. She rushed to the bed, laying soothing fingers on his forehead and speaking to him softly. Yes, she loved him. One only need to look at her to know that. I nodded, taking advantage of the distraction. No good-bye's for us. It would break me apart. As she was preoccupied with Trowa I slipped into my coat and out of the trailer. My heart hurt and my throat ached, but this was how it had to be.   
  
I had completed the mission. I had done what I had come to do. And now it was over and I had spent way too much time trying to reason with myself. I loved her, I knew that. I would always love her, and she would always love me somewhere deep within her. It was a love brought from shared sorrow, deep as any other pure form of love. It was a rainy day love, and a chessboard love, and a desperate love. Yet love it was. I'd always have that, no one could take it away from me. Things were as they should be, no matter how much it might hurt.  
  
"After all I knew I would come here  
only to leave saying, 'I'm sorry.'"  
  
I made my slow way out of the circus area, trudging through the mud and puddles, hunching into my coat. It's fine. Everything was back to normal. Things are as they should be. I didn't know if it was raindrops or teardrops on my cheeks, nor did I care. I saw a soaked ticket stub as I went, and smiled.  
  
A ticket, a tasket, put your love into a basket, and keep it there for always and never to forget. I'm fine. I stared at the ticket end. It's fine. I knew I wasn't going to stay when I came. I knew what would happen before I even met her. I shouldn't have put my guard down, and its my own fault for getting hurt.  
  
A ticket, a tasket, if only it had lasted. Come on, Quatre, stop this. You knew it would happen. You realized it. You knew. You understood. Go protect them now. Its them you have to protect. No one else. Fight for them. Go on, stop looking at that thing. But why? Why did he have to come back? It had torn me to pieces to leave her. It had ripped me to shreds to hurt him.   
  
A sob tore my throat apart, and my knees once again deposited me into the mud before that mangled little piece of paper. Catherine! She's not yours. Oh Catherine. She never was. You were disillusioning yourself. You had a moment, one moment, what is one moment to all the time that he will share with her. Jealous of him? No, never. I love them both. That's why I'm leaving. I'm leaving! I'm going to fight. I rocked back and forth, hugging myself tightly. So this is the end, I thought. To have one moment of her to sustain me for a lifetime. Perhaps it would be enough. Perhaps I would make it. Indeed, I had no choice. I turned back to stare in the direction of her trailer, seeing the sun rising for the first time in days behind it. You never had her. Yet I had her "I love you" in my ear and her kiss upon my lips.  
  
"Good-bye Catherine," I whispered to the dawn. "I love you, but I've done what I came to do, and now there's nothing left for me." I nodded, getting back up. Come on Quatre, Heero is waiting. And so I left the circus, left the two people I loved most in the world so I could protect them in their innocence. But I would never, ever forget her.   
  
A ticket a tasket, one kiss carried in a basket. I had a moment with my love, in tearful, shining starlight.  
  
"And I am so sorry."  
  
  
  
  
  
I Only Came: The Poem  
  
Tears among the starlight, ashes on the wind  
Atonement must be made for such a grievous sin.  
Though I've never seen you  
And you've never heard of me  
I owe you more than words of the most sincere apology.  
Your eyes among the starlight dance the song of the calliope  
I see why you meant so much to him,  
And it makes it that much harder for me.  
That's all I came to tell you.  
That's all I can really say.  
but the look in your eyes tells me that you want me to stay.  
Rain among the starlight, pouring down and in  
I never meant to love you  
Or take the place of him  
Yet while we're here together  
And my feelings well up strong  
Its hard for me to remember  
why I thought loving you to be wrong.  
Confusion among the starlight  
A tightrope walker in the rain  
I guess I never had you,  
But I'll never look at you the same.  
It's not that I'm not happy;  
Indeed I doubt there's anyone more glad.  
But I wonder what might have happened.  
If there was a love we might have had.  
Reunion in the starlight  
The very last of its kind  
I had thought him dead,  
And I had thought you mine.  
Yet I'll leave you to him now,  
With him as you always should be.  
After all I knew I would come here  
Only to leave saying 'I'm sorry.'  
And I am so sorry.  



End file.
